


Small Things, Small Hours

by vands88



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: And Apparently I'm A Maudlin Drunk, F/M, Gen, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Late Night Conversations, No Spoilers, POV First Person, POV Ichabod, THIS IS BECOMING A PATTERN, Texting, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands88/pseuds/vands88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the small things that Ichabod misses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Things, Small Hours

Amongst the soft edges of reality that the darkness of night brings, I can deceive myself that I am not here at all.

The red light that blinks from my left-hand side is not from the digital alarm clock but is in fact the hue of sunrise, the first of many beginnings in my life with Katrina. And so it has become that these small hours, which the red numbers insist on counting, are my living daydream. These are the only moments I allow myself to contemplate home. The Lieutenant may kindly jest about my incompetence with modern technology but it seems too forthright to share with her the intricate details of my home, about the harvests and the mannerisms and the other menial particulars that can no doubt be gleamed from the pages of textbooks.

It is the small things that I miss.

I could not sleep on this mattress for a good few days after my arrival to this time; something in the knowledge that only tiny metal coils and stitched fabric were holding me steady was deeply disturbing.  I have become accustomed to its particular firmness now and when I wake in the morning, the ingenuity of a hot shower only occupies my thoughts momentarily. It is becoming habit.

It worries me that so many things in this modern age are becoming habits of my own. My morning routine, while different in the details, is at its simplest, quite familiar. For instance, I find it reassuring that over the years the concept of breakfast has not strayed far, even if a certain Lieutenant considers a cup of coffee to be substantial in this matter. Instead the habits come with brushing teeth while staring at a mirror, and filling a kettle to make tea, and, most worryingly, answering the cell phone.

It is during one of these small hour contemplations that I decide to further my understanding of the communication device that Abbie insists I should use. One minute I am scrolling through received messages, grieving for the lost sincerity of letter sending, and the next I have pressed the green button that connects me to Lieutenant Abbie Mills. I hear the dialling tone and realise that perhaps it is not good etiquette to contact a woman at such an hour simply because I was curious as to the technology. I press the red button that ends the call and return the phone to the nightstand.

I lie back on the mattress and watch the newly familiar shadows dance across the bedroom ceiling in a fashion similar to cloud-watching. Some shadows do not move; it is peculiar the things that change and the things that do not.  

A buzzing noise sounds from the nightstand and upon investigation I find that the screen of the cell phone is lit up, informing me of a new message. I press the button to open it.

 

> LT ABBIE MILLS 03:56  
>  everything alright Crane?

Abbie’s quick reply causes me to speculate if she had, in fact, already been awake.

 

> SENT:  
>  My deepest apologises if I woke you Lieutenant. I am well. I called you by accident.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 03:58  
>  ok…  but how did you accidentally call me?!? thought I taught you better than that :P

I find Abbie’s use of _emoticons_ charming in the same way that one finds a child’s painting delightful.

I cannot see what a sticking-out tongue has to do with my mistake but it is my understanding that the _colon-P_ is often not intended to be literal, but rather act as an indicator that the preceding sentence is to be made light of, and such kindly teasing is very in character for my friend.

 

> SENT:  
>  You did. However, I was caught off guard.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:00  
>  ???

I sigh at the use of multiple punctuation marks. Perhaps in this instance, I could excuse Abbie for her inarticulateness due to the rude manner upon which I woke her. Then again…

 

> SENT:  
>  Is the art of the written word so lost that you no longer require actual words to communicate?
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:02  
>  deffo not with that many words
> 
> SENT:  
>  Deffo???

I smile as I send the message. _Deffo_ may be one of the most intolerable abbreviations I have encountered thus far, but imitating her previous use of redundant questions marks is bound to please her.

 

> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:03  
>  lol. see…  you’re learning

_LOL_ is an acronym that I can at least on some level appreciate. It is an efficient way to illustrate amusement when the sight itself cannot be seen.

I can hear Abbie’s laugh as clearly as if she were next to me and see the way her body shakes with it and her eyes shine with glee. I picture her chuckling into the pillow beside me, amused by my ignorance, her joyful face half-hidden by the cascade of brown hair. I smile back and reach out to tuck away the hair that blocks my view, but her visage disappears and I am left with a guilty twist in my gut.

How could I have considered anyone but Katrina lying with me? The fantasy had been unintentional, but I had still thought it, and the shame sits heavy on my heart.

I return to the conversation at hand, dispelling any impure thoughts that linger with my loneliness.

 

> SENT:  
>  It is a travesty. Letter writing used to be somewhat of an art form.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:06  
>  well sure but no one writes letters anymore Crane  
>   
>  SENT:  
>  What of the time honoured tradition of sending love letters?
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:08  
>  ha. especially that
> 
> SENT:  
>  No one sends love letters?
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:09  
>  well I sure as hell never been sent one

I frown. They must be a rarity indeed if Abbie has no experience of them. Perhaps people in this age woo their intended partners via text message with _emoticons_ and excessive punctuation use. Before I can enquire further about modern love letters, another message arrives from Abbie.

 

> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:10  
>   did you  send ones  to your wife ?

I close my eyes against the sudden vortex of conflicting emotions that the question brings. But I find that I cannot ignore the question especially when the erroneous spacing implies that Abbie may have rephrased it several times before sending the message. I know because I have fallen prey to that nuisance myself.

If it is important to her, then I will answer honestly.

 

> SENT:  
>  Once.

I feel a peculiar sensation that perhaps I should not have sent that last message, as if I have condemned our conversation by being so blunt. Truth often has this effect I’ve realised.  I quickly send another message, hoping it will smooth over whatever error I have just committed.

 

> SENT:  
>  I apologise once again for disturbing you. Go back to sleep, Lieutenant.  
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:15  
>  you miss her

Apparently Abbie is not so easily dissuaded. I am disproportionately pleased by this. And even though she did not phrase it as a question, I know it for what it is, and at least this one is easy to answer.

 

> SENT:  
>  Yes.

Abbie knows this. I have spoken often of my wife, but I refuse to burden Abbie with the further weight of everything else that I miss - my country, my life, and all the small things that accompanied it that I can no longer find. Manners, for instance. However, Abbie is a good friend and perhaps it is time that I share a little of my worries so that they may be discussed in the same way as the missing love letters.

 

> SENT:  
>  The town is loud. There are mirrors everywhere. I do not understand ballpoint pens. I also do not understand why you said it was fashionable for people to wear company names on their chest. Rap music should be poetry.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:19  
>  ???
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:19  
>  lol sorry
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:19  
>  but you’re not making much sense
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:20  
>  Crane?

I look to the empty side of the bed. Why do they make mattresses so large? Do they really expect everyone to share with someone? Or have people just become greedy with their available space?

Perhaps I am not making any sense. Perhaps I should have explained the illness before listing the symptoms.

 

> SENT:  
>  I am feeling homesick. I miss Katrina but I mourn for many other lost things.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:22  
>  like love letters?
> 
> SENT:  
>  Yes.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:23  
>  it’ll get better Crane. I told you I’m gonna help you. and I will.

Abbie’s reassurance spreads warmth on this otherwise cool night.

 

> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:23  
>  you’ve already got the hang of texting so I say you’re doing ok

I laugh quietly to myself, and feel grateful enough that I briefly consider sending back a _LOL_ of my own before coming to my senses.

 

> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:24  
>  and this is kinda like a  letter isn’t it?

I had not thought of it like that before. Texting before tonight had seemed only a menial way to exchange information. It had not occurred to me that, much like letters, they could also be used to communicate emotionally. This is becoming a pattern; that when I look hard enough, I find that the things I miss have not disappeared at all, only disguised themselves in another form. Like coffee for breakfast. Perhaps I will eventually find a suitable replacement for all the small things that I miss. The feeling that thought places within me is an uncomfortable one, neither happy nor sad, but also both simultaneously. Nostalgia. 

 

> SENT:  
>  Yes, I rather think that it is. Thank you Lieutenant. Truly.
> 
> SENT:  
>  If it’s all the same to you, I think I shall rest now. I look forward to continuing our mission together in the morning. Good Night, Abbie.
> 
> LT ABBIE MILLS 04:27  
>  night :-) xxx
> 
>  

I smile and it is only partially related to her _emoticon_. Abbie must be very tired if she can accidentally press a button three times at the end of her message and not amend the mistake. Unless of course, this is simply another aspect of digital communication that I do not yet understand. Perhaps it is another small thing that I have been missing but has found a new home in this world.

I fall into a peaceful sleep with the three ‘x’s dancing before my eyes, pondering what they could possibly mean.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> My apologises:  
> 1) Unbeta'd - all Britishisms, historical inaccuracies, canon inaccuracies, fandom clichés, grammatical errors - are all mine! Point them out and I'll happily fix 'em.  
> 2) First Person. It's a disease. I can't help it.  
> 3) Self-promo because I keep forgetting to mention that tumblr thing: http://vands88.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks!


End file.
